


In It Together

by atlanticslide



Category: Unter Uns
Genre: Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 13:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlanticslide/pseuds/atlanticslide
Summary: “And you really want to go back to that?”  Easy asks him.  “You want to go back to hiding?”And of course he doesn’t.  It’s taken him years, but he knows who he is, and he’s not ashamed anymore.  He’d never want to even pretend that he is, or should be.  Most days, he’s happy to tell anyone who has a problem with him to fuck off (or guiltlessly do worse to them).  But then there are times when he thinks about how painful Huber’s dismissal of him was, or remembers the look in Valentin’s eyes when he accused Ringo of taking advantage of him, times when worrying about receiving that reaction again gets exhausting.He can’t answer.  He’s still stuck.





	In It Together

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo I started this back when the spoilers about Huber telling Ringo to hide his sexuality first came out and didn't get around to finishing it until the fic had been thoroughly jossed by canon, but I hate having unfinished fic, so... anyone interested in what's now basically an AU version of Easy and Ringo arguing about having to hide their relationship?

“I don’t understand.”

Ringo sighs. His stomach is churning and he’s trying to maintain a calm façade, but the look of confusion on Easy’s face is making it hard. And he knows that confusion is going to give way to hurt any moment now, and pretty much the worst sight in the world is Easy’s face when he’s sad. 

“It’s Huber,” he tells Easy, trying – in vain, he knows – to deflect. “He – well, he has some concerns.”

“About me?” Easy asks, shaking his head, still confused. 

“About us. About our relationship.”

“Our relationship,” Easy repeats, his tone neutral. The furrow in his brow deepens. “He has nothing to do with our relationship. What on earth could he have to be concerned about?”

Ringo swallows, runs a hand through his hair. He paces a bit around the flat, wishing he was anywhere else; wishing he was back in bed beside Easy this morning, waking slowly to the feel of Easy’s breath against in neck, Easy’s arm slung across his waist. 

He takes a long breath and sighs on the exhale, then says, “He’s concerned about how it’ll look to some of our clients, having a high-level employee - ” He’s reciting the words Huber had said to him hours before, but stops short when he gets to the part where Huber had said _parading around_. “-openly dating another man.”

It takes a long, tense moment for Easy to respond. Ringo comes to a standstill with the table in between them, and he shifts in place from one foot to the other. In university, one of the things his professors had taught them, over and over, was about confidence, projecting that calm, cool demeanor that Ringo had already mastered long ago and – one of the biggest skills when it comes to sales, they’d all said time and again, is projecting confidence – in yourself, in your project, in your product; keeping your cool remaining focused, keeping a steady hand, and Ringo’s always excelled at getting people to do things he wants them to even when it’s against their best interest. 

All of that goes right out the window whenever it comes to Easy lately. He’d struggled through the climax of the kiosk scheme, his grip on the cool manipulation coming more and more loose the closer he got to success, but when he actually admitted his feelings for Easy, the floodgates were opened and it’s become nearly impossible for him to fool Easy about anything. He doesn’t _want_ to fool Easy about anything. 

He wishes, though, that he had some way of convincing Easy that this situation with Huber and his job is anything other than a shitfest that’s probably going to make them both miserable. 

“Are you serious?” Easy asks, finally, his voice tight. 

“I know how it sounds - ” Ringo starts, before Easy cuts him off.

“It sounds like homophobic bullshit!” 

“I _know_ ,” Ringo says again, rubbing his forehead. “But he’s my boss.”

“He can’t dictate your personal life!” Easy is furious now. The laptop he’d been editing photos on when Ringo came in the flat is still sitting open on the table in front of him, forgotten, but his hands are gripping the sides of the table tightly, like he wants to shove it or something. 

Ringo doesn’t say anything to that, and Easy goes on, slowly, “Unless… you agree with him…”

“Not exactly,” Ringo replies, looking away from the anger in Easy’s eyes. “It’s just that it makes a certain amount of sense - ”

Easy does shove the table then. It scrapes against the floor and Ringo has to take a step back to dodge a plate that goes clattering to the floor in front of him. Easy has never been someone to trifle with when angry – if Ringo’s honest with himself, he’s probably been at least a little bit into Easy for years, for that very reason. 

It’s terrifying right now, Easy’s anger, because Ringo knows the hurt that that anger is hiding, and his mind flashes back briefly to the look on Easy’s face as he’d thrown the punch at Ringo months ago, that furious grimace, before his expression had quickly settled into devastation. Heartbreak. 

_Please_ , Ringo thinks. _Please, please. I don’t want this to be it. Not over this._ He doesn’t say it out loud. 

“Calm down,” he says instead, holding up a placating hand, his only defense a reflection of anger. “This is how the business world is. These clients we work with, some of them are very old school very traditional.”

Easy scoffs at that, and Ringo sighs.

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t,” Easy bites out. “I really don’t understand how you could work for someone who’d try to make you hide who you are, who you love.” 

“The business world,” Ringo replies, tired already of fighting over Huber and the company. “You don’t understand the business world.”

Easy stares at him. “Uh, _hello?_ I own two businesses.”

Ringo rolls his eyes, and immediately wishes he could take the gesture back when he sees Easy’s mouth go tight. But Easy’s irritation, his hurt just makes Ringo more angry for some reason he can’t quite figure out. He feels trapped; Huber’s directives, this job that he loves, this job that he’s _good_ at, Easy’s anger, Easy’s love and confidence in him. 

“Come on. The kiosk doesn’t compare. That’s nothing compared to the types of companies, the level that I’m talking about.”

It’s a shitty thing to say, a low blow that Easy doesn’t deserve, and Easy cocks his head back like he’s been slapped, sending a wave of ugly, rancid guilt through Ringo. He waits for Easy to respond, to make a crack about how the beach and the kiosk are valuable enough for Ringo to spend months lying and manipulating Easy to get his hands on.

Easy doesn’t, though. Ringo thinks maybe it’d be easier if he did throw that in Ringo’s face once in a while. 

Instead, Easy says, “It’s 2018. You really want me to believe that every client you deal with is some sort of… old, narrow-minded homophobe? They’re all really going to care so much that you hold hands with another man when you walk down the street?”

“The business world - ”

“Stop saying _business world_ like it’s some sort of different planet!”

“ – It’s a small world, and people talk. If word got around that Huber Bau was employing someone like me - ”

“Listen to yourself,” Easy cuts him off again, and his voice is suddenly, oddly soft. Gentle. “Is this really what you want? What did Huber say to you?” 

It’s not. Of course it’s not what he wants. He loves Easy to a truly disgusting degree. He wants to touch him, wants to kiss him pretty much all the time, would probably be drawing hearts around their names if he was any more in love, and he doesn’t give a shit who sees them. And he’s not an idiot. He knows what’s motivating Huber in this, and he knows it’s not really about any clients who probably wouldn’t blink twice to see him with Easy on the street (and wouldn’t have occasion to see them together anyway unless Ringo ever wanted to bring Easy to some sort of event or function).

But Huber is who he is, and any hope Ringo may have had that Huber had changed since Ringo was last officially on staff at Huber Bau, or that Huber firing him last year was more about the possibility of Valentin being gay than about Huber caring about Ringo’s own sexuality, is gone now. This is the reality he’s in, and if he wants to be successful, he has to take some of this shit.

When he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, Easy adds, “This isn’t like you, to just put up with someone treating you like crap.”

The truth of it stings, but he’s not sure what else to do about the situation, and he says as much out loud.

“You could quit!” 

Ringo scoffs. “And what, go back to applying for trainee positions? Or let Huber block every application and sink my career?” 

“You’re already letting him dictate your life,” Easy says, shaking his head. He gets up from his seat at the table to come over to Ringo, reaches out like he wants to take Ringo’s hand or touch his face, but Ringo can’t have it at the moment, and he takes a step back. Easy’s arm drops back to his side. 

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it is,” Ringo says, forcing his voice to sound cool, casual, as he looks away from Easy standing in front of him. “It doesn’t really have to change things. It’s just when we’re out, around town…”

He trails off.

“And what?” Easy says quietly, taking a step towards him. “We can’t do this?” He slides his hand up Ringo’s arm, and Ringo lets him this time. Easy trails his hand down and laces their fingers together, rubs his thumb over Ringo’s pulse in that way that always makes Ringo feel calm and grounded. “Or this?” Easy asks as he moves in closer, presses himself against Ringo. Ringo feels weak, defenseless as Easy brushes his nose across the underside of Ringo’s jaw, moves up to press their lips together. 

His free hand finds Easy’s jaw of its own volition, his thumb stroking Easy’s cheekbone as he tries to pull himself back away, back into the conversation even though it’s nearly impossible for him to resist Easy like this (and he’s pretty sure Easy knows it).

“Of course we can,” he says against Easy’s lips when Easy pulls back a fraction. “Just – here, in the flat, or my place; inside the building.”

Easy shoves him away. 

“This is ridiculous,” he says, back to anger now, his voice raising.

Ringo shakes his head. “No, what’s ridiculous is that you can’t understand how important this is. This is my career!”

Easy rolls his eyes, mutters, “Your _career_ ,” as he turns away and paces around the room with his hands on his hips. 

“You were willing to do it for Hauke,” Ringo says, a flare of jealousy springing up as the words come out. 

Easy turns back to face him, his expression inscrutable. “That was different.”

“Why?” A million reasons flit across his mind, making his hands twitch with the need to ball them into fists.

“Because I wasn’t in love with him, you idiot!” Easy yells, his hands flailing. “I didn’t think about spending my life with him – not seriously!” 

Ringo’s a bit dumbfounded at that, and before he can reply, Easy goes barreling on. “How long is this all supposed to last, anyway? Are you expecting we’ll spend the rest of our lives pretending when we’re in public that we don’t know each other? Or just for as long as you work for Huber – however long that is?”

“No,” Ringo replies immediately, even though he doesn’t really have an answer for that. “I don’t know.”

“Even Hauke’s NFL career will end someday, and then he’ll be able to be open about himself, even if it takes twenty years” Easy says, tightly. “But you, working for Huber – who knows how long that could be?”

“It’s not going to be twenty years.”

“You don’t know that! If any part of what you’re saying about how homophobic your clients are, how difficult it is in the business world, all of that crap – if any of that is really true, then what are you going to do for the rest of your life?”

It’s so dangerously close to sounding like an end - _what are **you** going to do, not **we**_ \- that it makes Ringo panic, makes him furious, and he gathers up the anger like a shield. 

“You don’t know what you’re even talking about!” he shouts, pointing a finger at Easy. Their argument is zinging all over the place at this point, but it’s all he’s got. “You don’t know what it’s like! You’ve never had to actually deal with any homophobic bullshit, have you?

Easy’s eyes narrow angrily, but he doesn’t respond, because he probably knows what Ringo’s going to say already, even if they’ve never talked about all of the details of the pieces of Ringo’s plan last year for the kiosk.

“Other than that one time you found a slur written on the kiosk,” Ringo goes on, lowering his voice briefly with the last bit of control he has over the conversation, not wanting to bring any of that shit back to anyone else’s attention who might be at home next door. “And _I_ was the one who did that. So you don’t know how it feels, do you? To have to hide it, to see the way people look at you differently when they know, to lose a friend or lose a _job_ because you like men.”

“You’re being cruel,” Easy tells him, his voice quiet. Ringo can’t stand it.

“You’ve been out for five minutes! You knew that everyone would still love you, would still support you once they knew, you knew your career wouldn’t suffer. You’ve never had to worry about hiding it!”

Easy gives him a long, discerning stare when Ringo finishes his tirade with a panting breath, his hands shaking a little. Easy’s scrutiny makes it worse.

“And you really want to go back to that?” Easy asks him. “You want to go back to hiding?”

And of course he doesn’t. It’s taken him years, but he knows who he is, and he’s not ashamed anymore. He’d never want to even pretend that he is, or should be. Most days, he’s happy to tell anyone who has a problem with him to fuck off (or guiltlessly do worse to them). But then there are times when he thinks about how painful Huber’s dismissal of him was, or remembers the look in Valentin’s eyes when he accused Ringo of taking advantage of him, times when worrying about receiving that reaction again gets exhausting. 

He can’t answer. He’s still stuck.

Easy sighs heavily and shakes his head, then pushes past Ringo to leave the flat, banging the door open, and leaves Ringo standing there alone even though Easy’s the one who actually lives there.

Ringo doesn’t follow him. 

-

Hours later he’s lying in bed, staring at the wall and trying to calm the churning in his stomach as he replays the argument again and again in his mind, thinks through how he might’ve approached the conversation differently and can’t really come up with anything new. He jumps back and forth between being angry at Easy for not cooperating, not just making things simple and going along with what Ringo wants, and feeling so lonely and worried and unsure of everything.

(And the truth is, Easy being difficult, stubborn, not cooperating is one of the things that Ringo loves about him.)

He could just quit his job. Easy’s right that if Huber asks this of him now, who knows how long it could go on, and Ringo’s really not sure that he could live like that indefinitely. 

But then, how hard could this really be? He has a boyfriend, so it’s not like he needs to go out to gay bars or try to pick guys up or anything. 

The swirl of thoughts going around his head comes to a sudden halt at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs outside of his bedroom door. He knows it’s Easy, judging by the heavy footfall and the scuffle of those stupid boots that Easy insists on wearing even now, in July. 

He doesn’t move when his bedroom door opens, briefly flooding the room with light from the hall outside before closing again. He keeps his back to the room, continues staring at the wall as he listens to Easy’s boots hit the floor one by one, then his jeans with a thunk of his belt. A moment later the sheet is pulled back and Ringo’s body stiffens a bit as Easy climbs into the bed behind him. 

He’s calmed rather quickly, though, when Easy’s arm wraps around him, his hand coming to rest against Ringo’s chest. Ringo debates with himself whether to take Easy’s hand or stay absolutely still, as if any movement might spoil the moment and send Easy darting away. Nervousness wins out, and he stays mostly still, allowing himself to relax a bit back into Easy’s embrace. Easy brushes his thumb softly over Ringo’s chest for a while, and Ringo feels the tension in his chest begin to loosen as Easy’s pressense seeps through him. 

He’s just beginning to let his eyelids droop closed when Easy speaks.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” he asks quietly into the dark room, his words breathing warm against the back of Ringo’s neck. 

Ringo’s eyes snap back open but he doesn’t respond. Easy must feel his body stiffen though, because he presses his hand fully against Ringo’s chest and rubs up and down a few times.

“I’ve been thinking,” he goes on. “About how much we used to hate each other. How just a year, two years ago, I could barely stand the sight of you.” Ringo is about to turn over and give Easy a look of offense but Easy keeps rubbing his chest and keeps speaking. “And now I can’t really imagine my life without you.”

Easy squeezes his arm around Ringo a little tighter and Ringo lets out a long breath, but can’t quite think of what to say. 

“You used to make me crazy,” Easy tells him, and there’s a hint of laughter in his voice. “And now I guess you still make me crazy, but in a totally different way. It’s strange, isn’t it? Thinking about back then. How different things are now.”

He punctuates his ramble with a kiss to the back of Ringo’s shoulder. Ringo’s eyes fall closed. He wants to say something, wants to say that he gets that, he feels it too, sometimes - that shock that it’s _Easy_ he loves like this uncontrollable force that he’s sometimes still unprepared for. There was always an energy between them, a tension that he was vaguely aware of over the years, and now it’s morphed into something that genuinely feels like a tug bringing him to Easy, and he still can’t quite figure out how that happened. 

“We’ll figure this out,” Easy says, softer now. The words are whispered into Ringo’s skin, gentle and comforting but still holding a sense of conviction that makes Ringo feel more sure about things - about them - than he has all day.

They’ll figure this out. And something else will come up at some point that they’ll fight about, because it seems inevitable with them, but figuring it out, together, seems pretty inevitable at this point too.

He moves his hand up to grasp Easy’s resting against his chest and threads their fingers together, squeezing their hands together tightly. They fall asleep like that some unknown amount of time later, relaxed and lulled into sleep by their calm, steady breathing in time with one another.


End file.
